Is Paris Burning?
by sotaku
Summary: After getting to know France more, Germany realizes he isn't as bad as he thought. There is only one problem; They are supposed to be enemies, and his boss will stop at nothing to see Paris burn. Will the two be able to keep this relationship a secret, and will Germany have the strength to disobey his boss? Based loosely on the story of Dietrich von Choltitz, the "Savior of Paris"


It was a chilly spring day in 1944. The end of the Second World War was drawing near, and the Axis were losing the war. It didn't help that Italy, a former friend of Germany, had betrayed their alliance and had sided with the enemy. With the advance of the Red Army in the east and the British and Americans in the south, It seemed the chance of winning the war was diminishing day by day. Despite this, Germany's boss continued to be unreasonable and make nonsensical demands. Currently in Paris, Germany was in the middle of listening to another one of these unreasonable demands.

"He is the enemy. Why are you fraternizing with him?" Germany's boss ridiculed him sternly.

"Sir, with all do respect, I wasn't fraternizing. I Simply talked with him once."

"Still, you are not to associate with him. He completely humiliated you, he completely humiliated our country!"

"Yes, I know. But he started the conversation! It would have been impolite to say nothing." Germany sighed, hanging up the phone. Earlier that day France had approached him, and he had started making small talk. Germany had been heading to a cafe in Paris. He sat down at a table, lighting a cigarette. Just then, he heard a familiar voice.

"That really isn't your color. Black and green? I mean, you're not on the battlefield right now."

Germany turned around. It was who else but his current enemy, France. France was dressed in a very stylish light blue suit and waistcoat with a dark blue patterned tie.

"Oh. It's you." He rolled his eyes.

"Why yes, how observant of you." he said, jokingly, sitting down in the chair across from him. "Mind if I sit here?" He asked.

"Well, you already are sitting here." He looked down, annoyed.

"_Merci_" France smiled. Germany politely nodded, focusing on the cup of coffee he had ordered. Even if it wasn't "real" coffee, It still had been so long since he'd had a good cup of any kind of coffee due to the war.

"So, well, how are you today?" France asked, trying to make small talk.

"I was fine until you showed up." He huffed. Talking with the Frenchman was the last thing he wanted to do, but he had no other choice. From a young age, his brother told him not to associate with those good for nothing French. He put the cigarette out into the ashtray on the table. "What made you come here anyway? Have you come here just to insult me?"

"Well, we know each other, non? And people who know each other socialize, don't they?" He smirked.

"I suppose so. To be honest, this is a pretty nice cafe." He said.

"Of course it is." France chuckled. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't. I'm surprised you have good taste in food considering your fashion sense."

"Well, thanks, I guess." He shrugged, not knowing if it was an insult or compliment. He did not like talking to France and wanted to get away from him as soon as possible. Hopefully he would leave this godforsaken city once his boss gave him orders to turn it into rubble.

Finishing the rest of his "coffee", he spoke. "I have to go." He said, somewhat lying. He sat up, politely waving.

"_Adieu_" France waved back. As much as he hated Germany, he still was somewhat polite to him.

A bit later, Germany was sitting in his makeshift office he used for his time in Paris. He had just finished his call with his boss. He wished he could say he didn't have to listen to him, but he always followed the rules. He sat back into his chair, reflecting on the events of earlier. Was France really that bad of a guy? Sure, he may have been an arrogant putz, but he did have a good taste in fashion and food that he was honestly quite jealous of. He sighed. Of course he was a bad person, what was he thinking? At his weakest point, France just kicked him harder. He had no respect for someone so selfish. He sat down at his typewriter. If he wasn't allowed to express his feelings outside, he could surely do it on paper.

12 March, 1944

How can my boss not realize that the idea of winning the war is nonsense at this point? I am tired of his unreasonable demands. I have a small conversation with France and he acts like the entire world is ending. I wish I could say something, but on top of having to follow his rules, it seems the betrayal of that little Italian is hurting me more than anticipated. I don't think he knew it, but I loved him. Not just as an ally, or a friend. It was something more, it was love. It has been nearly a year, but it stings just as much as the day it happened. Was he simply scared of losing, or did he really dislike me that much? What causes someone to turn on the people that they love? Nonetheless, even If I fall in love with someone, I will always have a special place in my heart for him.

That seemed good enough. He looked out the window. It had gotten quite late out. Leaving his office, he went to go fix himself some dinner, nothing too fancy due to rationing, and read the news before he went to bed.

The next day was a rare day he had off. After training and getting dressed, he went outside. He walked around for a bit, looking at the old buildings. It didn't take long for him to run into the Frenchman once again. France was wearing a black beret and matching black trench coat.

"Bonjour!" France said, waving to get his attention. Germany looked towards France. What were the odds of running into him again?

"Hallo." He said, a bit annoyed France had found him. France kissed him on each cheek, causing Germany to wince a bit.

"What are you doing today?" France asked

"Oh, nothing much. Just walking around." he tried his best to avoid conversation.

"Walking around?" France thought for a second. "Would you be interested in seeing the city? I could show you around." France, even to people he didn't like too much, always made sure to be a great host. Germany looked surprised.

"You? Showing ME around? I thought you hated me!" He said, surprised.

"I don't _hate _you per say. I just dislike you. And being rude would make me a bad host." France half joked, winking at him.

"I suppose it's alright." Germany shrugged. He was always taught the french were rude people, but Francis was being so polite to him. France smiled.

"That's what I was hoping to hear. I knew you couldn't resist me for long." He laughed, starting to walk. They soon came to a large, elaborate looking building. "This is the Hôtel de Ville. It has been the main headquarters of this city since 1357. It was burned in 1871 but has since been rebuilt to be larger and more grand!" Germany looked at the building. To think that this building was older than he was as a country. He couldn't help but admire the details of the building.

"It's very nice, France." Germany said, trying not to stutter or blush. The pair continued walking until they reached the next site. It was a round shaped building with a glass dome. France continued on his small tour, speaking again.

This is the Bourse de Commerce. It is used to negotiate the trade of various commodities." France put his hand on Germany's shoulder, causing him to blush and pull away. France looked surprised. "Oh? What's wrong?" He asked.

"N-nothing." Germany stuttered. Why was he acting so shy? The last time he acted like this was around Italy. Not wanting to make a scene again, he let France put his hand on him again.

The next building they came to was the Palais Garnier. It was a large, elaborate looking opera house.

"This is the Palais Garnier. Personally, this is my favorite building in the city because the inside is absolutely gorgeous, maybe as gorgeous as myself. It's become well known as the setting for the novel _The Phantom of the Opera._" Germany looked up at the building, noticing the busts. One of them looked familiar.

"Is that Beethoven?" Germany asked. He was quite happy that Francis like his country's classical music. He didn't think he gave much attention to things that weren't french. Maybe Francis wasn't as snooty and arrogant as he thought.

"Yes, it is!" France said, surprised by Germany's keen eye. Next on the list was the famous Notre Dame cathedral.

"This is Notre Dame." France continued. "It was built back in 1160 and took about one hundred years to build. It is well known for being the site of Napoleon's Coronation. I could go on about the history for ages, but we would be here all day if I did." France laughed, causing Germany to smile a bit.

Germany had a thing for Gothic architecture, and he had to admit, if he could save one building in Paris from being destroyed, it would be Notre Dame.

"It is lovely." He blushed, he looked at Francis, who looked shocked. He had never seen this side of Germany before. His smile was wonderful. If they weren't at war, someone like him would have no problem capturing the Frenchman's heart. The second to last spot on the list was the Arc de Triomphe.

"This is the Arc de Triomphe. It was built to honor the people that died in the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars. The tomb of the unknown soldier from the Great War is also buried here." They walked under the arch, observing the details.

"I've never seen an arch this grand." Germany said. He would never say that to his boss, but It was true. The Arc de Triomphe dwarfed the Brandenburg gate by comparison.

"Of course you haven't. You haven't been to France, dear!" France smiled. The final stop was the Sacré-Cœur. The two of them sat on a bench in front of the church and took a rest.

"Did you enjoy the tour?" France asked.

Germany didn't want to admit it, but he really did enjoy it. The tour gave him some appreciation of the city's history and architecture. "To tell the truth, I did." He said. Francis was not nearly as snotty or rude as Ludwig thought he would be. In fact, this tour made him warm up to the Frenchman somewhat. The same thing could be said for France himself, too. He never saw Germany smile until today. That was definitely the highlight of France's day.

"I'll show you the way back to your place if you would like." France said. It was quite ironic. What would his boss say if he saw a French soldier escorting a German one?

Heading to the metro station, it wasn't long until the two of them had reached Germany's temporary house. France had been so polite to him the whole day, and as much as he wanted France to leave, he thought it would be impolite if he didn't invite him in for a bit.

"Would you like to visit for a bit? You've been so polite to me, and I find it natural that I should do the same " He blushed. He couldn't believe he was doing this. What if his boss found out?

"Of course." France smiled. After being ushered in by Germany, France took off his hat and coat, sitting down on a chair. Getting glasses out, Germany poured some wine for the both of them.

Putting the glasses down, he took a cigarette from a pack. "Would you like a cigarette?" He asked France

"Sure." He replied. Germany handed France a cigarette as well as taking one for himself. The sun was starting to set, bathing the room in orange. He looked at France. Part of him wanted to still despise him, but the other part of him knew that he wasn't as bad as he seemed. He looked into France's dark blue eyes.

"We're really bad at this whole enemy thing, aren't we?" Germany let out a small chuckle.

"Allemagne, I was never truly your enemy. Well, maybe I was, but today has proved otherwise."

"Honestly though, thank you for showing me the city. I think I'm growing to like it."

"Of course you are! Paris is splendid indeed." France put out his cigarette, giving a small smirk. After finishing their wine, it had become dark out. "This was nice and all, but I should be going." France said, getting up from his seat.

"Well, if you're going to go, at least let me say goodbye first." Germany said. The two of them made their way to the front door.

"Goodbye France, thank you for everything today, I mean it."

"Maybe we should meet again sometime. Goodbye." France said, but not before giving the muscular man a hug, causing him to blush. That hug seemed to last forever. It wasn't long before Germany was in bed, unable to sleep. Thoughts of how he viewed France raced through his head. They were supposed to hate each other, but here they were spending time together. Could they even be called enemies at this point? Friends? Frenemies. That was what their relationship could be called, right? He settled on that. Frenemies.


End file.
